


Breaking Free

by Kale-y (PechoraFlow)



Series: Promptober 2020 [10]
Category: Alita: Battle Angel (2019), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Cyborgs, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Kinda?, Part 2 of my Motorball AU, Protective Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27198619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PechoraFlow/pseuds/Kale-y
Summary: Connor sets out to rescue Nines from Zlatko and finally reunite their whole family, but Zlatko is more sinister than they gave him credit for.Connor could still lose everything, more easily than he realizes.---Prompt: Family
Relationships: Connor & Josh & Markus & North & Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900
Series: Promptober 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947931
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	Breaking Free

**Author's Note:**

> okay y'all asked for it ❤️ I'm glad you guys liked the first part! 
> 
> Now, the sequel, as promised...
> 
> 😈

Connor followed Markus downstairs, mentally going over the little information he had.

NINES IS RICHARD  
RICHARD IS MY BROTHER  
HANK IS MY FATHER  
I AM A CYBORG  
~~NINES~~ RICHARD IS A CYBORG  
I AM FRIENDS WITH OTHER CYBORGS - “JERICHO”  
I WAS KIDNAPPED THREE YEARS AGO  
I WAS NOT BUILT FOR THE PURPOSE OF FIGHTING

He looked over his list, realizing that there were many areas of his life he still was left in the dark about. There were questions he found himself asking that he had never had to ask himself before. 

PURPOSE: UNKNOWN

The notification was red and impossible to ignore. It hung in the edge of his vision, taunting him. What was his purpose, now? How did someone go about trying to find their purpose? Did he even have one to find in the first place?

He dismissed all notifications when he reached the bottom of the stairs. He would have plenty of time to make a list of his questions later. For now, he had people to meet. 

Markus stepped aside, gesturing to the people at the table. “Would you like introductions?”

Connor nodded. “That would be helpful, yes.”

"Well, you’ve met North,” Markus said, cringing slightly.

North nodded at Connor. “No hard feelings?”

“Happens all the time,” Connor said, trying to ease her worries. However, the statement seemed to have the opposite effect on the people in the room. Some flinched, some looked away. North herself allowed a small embarrassed smile.

“Uh, this is Carl,” Markus went on, guiding Connor over to the man in the wheelchair.

SUBJECT: CARL MANFRED  
STATUS: UNKNOWN

“Hello, Carl,” Connor greeted, extending his hand for a handshake.

Carl, lopsided grin on his face, shook Connor’s hand. “Good to see you up, Connor. How are you liking the chassis?”

“Carl is the one who crafted your plates,” Markus explained.

Instantly, a sense of awe filled Connor. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever had something so precious.”

“Well, you did,” Carl said. “This one’s Mark II, for you. And it’s no trouble - I have to fill my retirement with something, after all.”

Markus pointed to the two men standing across the table. “Simon and Josh. I don’t think you knew them very well before…” Connor raised a hand in greeting, which they returned.

That only left one person.

Connor moved around the table, going up to the grey-haired man and crouching down, kneeling next to him, a hand on the tabletop to maintain his balance. “Hank?”

Hank watched him, an unreadable expression on his face. Initially, Connor thought it was exhaustion, but he thought he detected traces of wariness and sadness, as well.

“Markus tells me you are my dad,” Connor continued, watching Hank’s expression carefully. "I apologize - my memory is...malfunctioning. I am unable to recall very much before the motorball games - just feelings, really. However, Markus tells me I am quite adept at hugs. Would you like one?”

Hank blinked at him. Then, he dropped his chin to his chest and raked a hand back through his hair, defeated. “Look, kid, I… You’re not... _you_. And I’ll wait for as long as it takes until you _are_ you again, but I just…” Hank looked up at Connor, something broken in his eyes. “Don’t try to pretend to be him, okay? Just… Be yourself, whoever that is.”

Connor nodded. Markus had seemed desperate to see the Connor in the RK800, before. It seemed Hank was the opposite. Perhaps he did not see his son in Connor. Perhaps he did, and what he saw was broken, worth grieving over. Whatever the reason, if Hank was willing to give him time to adjust, Connor would return the favor.

“Connor wanted to help us rescue Richard,” Markus spoke up, switching the topic.

Something flashed in Hank’s eyes. “No."

“He knows the underground better than we do,” Markus said. “If we go in before the game starts, we can reach Richard before anyone has to risk their lives. Plus, we have two new targets to extract as well.”

“Great,” Hank said. “He stays here.”

“Hank-”

“He's been so malnourished and dehydrated that he fucking developed _brain damage,_ and you expect me to throw him back into the place that experimented on him and tortured him-” Hank cut himself off abruptly, standing out of his chair in anger and turning away, crossing his arms.

He took a minute to gather himself, then turned back around. He looked ready to fight Markus again, but his eyes fell on Connor, kneeling silently by the table, and his gaze was locked on. He couldn’t look at anyone else.

“You can’t ask me to ‘okay’ that,” Hank said, almost pleading. “You can’t… I can’t send you there. Ever. I can't. Don’t ask me to.”

“I'm sorry,” Connor said. What _could_ he say? Was there anything that could make the man look at him differently? It had only been a few minutes, but he was already tired of seeing the haunted expression on Hank's face, as if Connor was a ghost instead of a living being. “I’m sorry.”

_I’m sorry that you lost your sons._

_I’m sorry that you aren’t able to get them back._

_I’m sorry that I’m not the one you expected._

_I’m sorry that I’m in the way of your family reuniting._

_I’m sorry that I disappointed you._

“No,” Hank said, moving closer. His hands reached out but he aborted the motion before he could touch Connor - as if his chassis was poisonous.

_I’m sorry that I make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry that I’m not the same person. I’m sorry I can’t say the right thing I’m sorry you want him back I’m sorry you got me instead I’m sorry I’m sorry-_

“It’s not your fault,” Hank said quietly, but he wouldn’t meet Connor’s eyes.

Hank stood and walked away, leaving Connor alone in a room full of strangers.

* * *

The locker room was empty.

It was usually empty, with Richard sitting on his own, waiting for the next race, but at least he could watch over Connor, forced into shutdown in the charging port in the corner or receiving repairs on the metal table in the center of the room.

But it was empty, now.

Connor seemed to be relatively unaffected by the trauma of their situation, but Richard woke up with nightmares, seeing Connor damaged, taken apart, and reassembled a thousand different ways. Maybe it’s because he could remember what life was like, before. He could remember Hank, and Sumo, and Markus, and Gavin...

He always watched Connor race, hating that he had to watch but also not being able to look away, because what if the nightmare came true?

And then it did.

He watched, helpless in the stands as _North_ impaled his brother’s lung and broke his back. Thirium spurted and spread across the tarmac, staining it blue. It would evaporate, but Richard could still see it long after the fight was over and the two of them had been disqualified. The image was burned onto the back of his eyelids.

Immediately, Zlatko had dragged him back to the locker room. “Don’t move. I’ve gotta clean up this mess.”

“No,” Richard had said. “No, you take me with you, or I’m leaving.”

“You’d leave your own brother behind?” Zlatko challenged.

Richard didn’t have a response- no, that was a lie. He knew exactly what his answer was.

_No. I’d never leave him. I can’t leave him._

Zlatko sneered at him. “Didn’t think so.”

And Zlatko left him alone in the room.

Richard sat and waited. What else was there to do? He stared at the wall, locking his joints in place. His mind wandered, and for the thousandth time, he thought of Hank, and Sumo, and Jericho, and Connor. He thought of everything that had been and might never be again, and he grieved. The pain was easier now, after three years, but the ache remained.

A day passed before Zlatko returned, and as soon as the door opened, Richard stood, ready for news - any news. “Is he alright?”

Zlatko crossed his arms. “Lot of heavy damage. She skewered his Thirium pump - sent him into a bit of a coma.”

Richard - one of the top players in motorball, equipped with exceptional strength, balance, and speed - suddenly found himself unable to stand. His knees buckled, and he sat back down onto the bench.

 _Connor._ In a _coma._

“I’ve moved him back to my house,” Zlatko went on. “I have more sophisticated equipment there. If I’m going to keep him from brain death, I’m going to need to be there more. He needs a completely new body, too. That bitch completely totaled him.”

Richard looked up, desperate. _“Please_ , don’t hurt him- He didn’t do anything wrong-”

“He lost me ten thousand dollars,” Zlatko growled. “Like hell he didn’t do anything wrong. And if you want RK800 to make it back here, you’re going to make up all that money for me.”

Richard said nothing.

“You’ve got a race tomorrow at two,” Zlatko said, moving back towards the door. "Get second. Make it close.”

And then he left.

And Richard was alone.

He tried to drift back into the comfort of his memories, but found his thoughts locked on Connor, remembering the times Zlatko had paralyzed Richard and forced him to simply sit still while Connor was tortured for losing. Even as awful as those moments were, Richard would take them over this hell any day of the week. He was at least able to speak to Connor and be there for him, before. Over the past few months, Zlatko had even started letting him hold Connor’s hand while he installed whatever twisted “upgrade" he pleased to Connor’s body.

Thinking about the very real possibility that Connor was strapped down on a table in Zlatko’s home, wherever that was, going through torture _alone…_

Richard didn’t go into stasis.

* * *

Connor had never been awake for so long - at least, not that he could remember.

Zlatko had always only kept him activated awake for a few hours at a time, then left him alone in stasis for who knew how long.

As he approached six hours of being awake, he felt himself grow heavy with fatigue - another one of those feelings he recognized, but didn’t remember.

Luckily, Markus was checking up on him. When his eyelids began to droop, he stopped his strategy discussion with the people in the room and moved to Connor’s side. “Let's get you back to bed.”

Connor nodded, then allowed Markus to lead him back to the stairs, up to the second floor. As they walked towards Connor’s room, Connor noticed that one of the closed rooms had a light shining out through the crack between the door and the floor. Hank’s room, perhaps? Something in Connor’s mind told him that Hank’s room was the one at the end of the hall. That the room with the light on hadn’t seen anyone in it for years.

Before he could think about it too much, Markus led him back into his room. Connor wanted to look at the other pictures, to see if staring at them more would unlock his blocked memory, but Markus was pushing him into the bed and pulling the covers over him.

"I want to go with you to see Nines, tomorrow,” Connor said.

Markus’s lips thinned, but something in his eyes gave way and he sighed. “If Hank isn’t watching you too closely, then I’ll let you come with. North and I can get the other racers, while you get Nines. He’ll be more likely to come with us if he sees that you’re alright, anyway.”

Connor smiled, settling into the mattress that felt familiar and strange all at once. “Thank you, Markus.”

Markus returned the smile. “You’re not going to thank me for long. We need to be up early. Get some rest - I’ll wake you in a few hours.”

* * *

The next morning, Richard armored up early, running diagnostics and calibrating his motor controls to the very best of his ability.

The door to the locker room slammed open, scaring Richard half to death. He whipped around, blades popping out of his fingers at the ready-

Connor stood in the doorway, equipped with a new body - one that looked achingly familiar, crafted with care and love and tuned to a level only Kamski could achieve.

Richard hadn’t hallucinated before, but he was going on three days without sleep. He wouldn’t have been surprised if that was what was happening.

But before Richard could second guess what he was seeing, Connor ran in and threw his arms around him. Richard fiercely returned the hug, tears springing to his eyes.

“You’re okay,” Richard laughed in relief. “You’re…” He pulled away from the hug, quickly scanning Connor for injuries.

“I’m alright,” Connor said, but he let Richard fuss. “I met Hank.”

Richard froze. “You... _met_ Hank?”

“I know I’m Connor," he explained. “And you’re Richard, and Hank’s our father. But my memory has been damaged. Markus is unsure of its reparability.”

“Markus?” Richard blinked in surprise.

Connor nodded, smiling. “Yes. He’s here, helping the AX400 and TR400. Now come on.” Connor grabbed Richard by the hand and started to pull him towards the door. “We have to meet up…”

And just like that, Connor swayed, then _dropped._

Richard cried out, catching Connor before he could hit the ground. He pulled Connor into his lap, running scan after scan to see what had happened that would make him suddenly stop moving, not even _breathing._ He could still blink, but Richard wondered if that function was controlled by another mechanical system, not his brain - had his chassis somehow disconnected? Was there something biologically wrong, or was this a mechanical problem?

_How could he fix him?_

“You have a race to win, RK900.”

Richard looked up murderously, hate boiling in his heart as he glared at Zlatko, who stood in the doorway to the locker room. He pulled Connor closer to him, as if he could protect him somehow.

Hilarious.

He had never been able to protect Connor - not when they were first EMPed and taken, not when Zlatko had modified their bodies and twisted them for function, not when Zlatko tortured them after failed races and slip-ups…

But this time would be different. They could _leave._

Zlatko must have caught him glancing at the door, because he tsked and shook his head. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why the hell not?” Richard spat in a challenge. "You lied - you never had him at your home. I'm not doing _shit_ for you.”

Zlatko held out a hand, showing off a small black device. “I’ve been holding onto this for the past few years. Want to see what else it can do?” He squeezed it, pushing a button on the side of the device.

Connor jerked in Richard’s arms, eyes wide and panicked as he started choking and wheezing. One of Connor’s hands weakly clawed at Richard’s arm. Cold helplessness took hold of Richard as he held his brother, only able to grab Connor’s hand and watch.

“Stop- stop it!” Richard yelled.

“You do nothing for me, I do nothing for you,” Zlatko said, looking down triumphantly at the two brothers. “This relationship is much more beneficial to you than I believe you realize.”

Connor gasped, convulsing.

“What are you doing to him?” Richard demanded, his Thirium pump clenching as Connor tried to push his face into Richard’s stomach, in search of comfort that Richard couldn’t give him.

“Your race starts in twenty minutes,” Zlatko said. “You get second place. If you don’t, I’ll cut my losses. You two have cost me a lot of money, lately. Maybe I’ll pay Johann to have his TR400 execute this one, get a disqualification settlement.” Zlatko kicked Connor’s leg, then leaned forward. “And I'll make you watch as his skull is crushed and he bleeds out-”

_BANG!_

Zlatko’s knees buckled and his face went slack. He toppled over, landing front-first on the floor, revealing Hank himself, standing in the doorway with his revolver drawn.

He hadn’t changed a bit.

Tears lined Richard’s eyes as Hank rushed over, crouching down in front of his two boys. “Dad-” Richard croaked.

Hank cupped a palm to Richard’s cheek. Richard leaned into the warm touch. “Are you hurt?” Hank demanded. “What happened?”

“Zlatko, he...he did something,” Richard stuttered, letting the tears fall freely. “He had some kind of remote- He did something to Connor…”

Hank pulled his hand back and stood, moving over to Zlatko’s body. He spotted the black device and plucked it from the floor, then reversed his movements and knelt back down by Connor, who followed him with his eyes but was otherwise paralyzed.

“It’s not labelled or anything,” Hank said, looking over the device. “Do you know…?”

“I never knew he had it,” Richard said. “He just… He just collapsed, and then he did something and he was seizing and-”

“Alright, can you carry him?” Hank interrupted, a gentle hand on Richard’s shoulder.

Richard nodded. “Yeah."

“Good. C’mon, we’ve gotta go.”

* * *

_The sound of the ocean._

_Hot sand beneath his feet._

_Connor looks up into honest, kind blue eyes and giggles, turning back to his sandcastle._

_The kind blue eyes belong to the grey-haired man._

_A kiss on his forehead._

_A new blue backpack on his back as he runs into his first day of school._

_A big St. Bernard licks his face._

_The fur bunches up on the dog’s cheeks._

_Cole names him “Sumo”._

_Richard teases him, he can’t remember what about._

_They walk together into middle school._

_They’re always together._

_The car skids._

_Connor grabs onto Richard, Richard tries to protect Cole as they flip over._

_The car stops in a ditch._

_Hank’s kind blue eyes are terrified._

_There’s so much pain._

_Connor wakes in a metal body._

_Richard wakes in a metal body._

_Cole doesn’t wake up._

_They get home from the hospital._

_Walking feels different._

_His existence feels different._

_Hank goes for the whiskey bottle on top of the fridge._

_Richard and Connor go to sleep on Cole’s bed._

_They never go into Cole's room again._

_Hank starts drinking._

_Connor helps Richard hide the bottles._

_Hank always has more._

_Connor and Richard need to grow up._

_They go to a support group - Jericho - for help._

_They meet Carl._

_Carl says he has some ideas._

_Hank stops drinking._

_Connor and Richard aren’t going to be kids anymore._

_He has missed the rest of their childhood._

_He hates himself over it._

_Richard tries to talk him out of it._

_Connor spends the rest of his days in his smaller body cuddling under Hank’s arm on the couch._

_Connor spends the rest of his nights in his smaller body climbing up onto Hank’s bed to sleep next to him._

_Carl says child cyborgs are rare._

_He brings in a specialist - Elijah Kamski._

_Connor goes to sleep in his smaller body._

_Connor wakes in a bigger body._

_Hank is relieved that he wakes up._

_Richard has a bigger body, too._

_Connor’s movements are more awkward, but he manages to hug Hank and Richard. His arms are bigger, now._

_The EMP goes off._

_Connor hasn’t felt pain like this since the accident ten years ago._

_It floods his senses._

_It burns._

_It crackles._

_It holds him in place and fills him in agony._

_He can’t think._

_He wakes in a cold room of concrete, confused, disoriented-_

_There’s so much pain-_

_“Register designation: RK800.”_

* * *

Connor woke with a gasp, breathing heavily. He coughed a few times, trying to get his breathing under control as he trembled.

He looked around wildly, convinced that he was back there, back in the locker room, back in Zlatko’s possession-

His room. Pale blue walls, picture frames, his books, his fish…

Connor buried his head in his hands, not surprised to find tears on his cheeks. His hands shook against his face, soft _clinks_ filling the room as the acrylic plastic plates rattled. He hadn’t been this unnerved, this _aware_ of his body since the hospital…

It hit him.

_He remembered._

Connor hastily scrambled out of his covers, legs tangled in the sheets from tossing and turning. He still shook, but he hastily wiped the tears from his face with his shirtsleeve, forcing himself up and out of bed-

His foot stayed caught in the bedding, causing him to fall forward and almost face-plant. He would have completely hit the floor ~~if not for the lightning quick reflexes Zlatko had drilled into him, over and over and over and over-~~

Shaking his foot to free himself, Connor quickly pushed himself back up and half-ran, half-stumbled towards the door. He threw it open and ran out into the hallway, running straight into Richard.

“What- Connor, what’s wrong?” Richard reached out and held Connor’s shoulders in place to steady him. Connor looked at his brother and wanted to start crying all over again. Gone was the mangled body Zlatko had put together. Gone were the upgrades and scars. Instead, Richard had his old body back. New acrylic glass plates formed the chassis, matching Connor’s. He no longer wore the armor required for a motorball game; his favorite hoodie and pajama pants offered comfort that neither brother had been granted in the cold, concrete underbelly of the arena.

“I remember,” Connor said. “I remember you, and Dad, and Cole… I remember everything and I… I’m so lost…”

Richard wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Connor, hugging him tightly. They hadn’t been able to hug in the arena; their bodies were designed to hurt anyone who came close. Connor forgot how much he missed being held, being protected.

Unable to stop the tears, Connor hid his face in Richard’s shoulder, hoping that his older brother didn’t mind his tears being absorbed by Richard’s favorite comfort item.

“Where’s Dad?” Connor whispered.

Richard pulled away from the hug, taking Connor’s hand instead. “Downstairs. C’mon.” He started to lead Connor over to the staircase, but Connor stopped.

_Look, kid, I… You’re not...you._

Richard frowned. “What’s the matter?”

“I…” Connor glanced uncertainly down the stairs. There was a light on somewhere below, casting shadows up into the second level.

Connor held out his hand silently, the swirls in the chassis glowing in an open interface. Confused, Richard accepted the interface, and Connor showed him the memory of Hank putting distance between them.

Richard broke the connection. “No, he’s trying to be helpful, Connor, but you know him. He’s _Dad_. He tries to let you feel independent, gives you space if you need it, and the only way to get him to be openly affectionate is to move first. So if you miss him, _then go see him._ ”

Connor nodded. "I miss him. A lot.”

“Come on,” Richard said, taking Connor’s hand again. This time, Connor didn’t resist, letting himself be pulled down the stairs. Richard called out, “Dad?”

“Was that you up there?” Hank’s voice asked from a room to the left. _The living room,_ Connor’s mind supplied. “It sounded like you might’ve dropped something…” A moment later, Hank came around the corner and froze.

Connor couldn’t look up, because what if Hank’s expression was the same one he wore the day Connor had been rescued? What if Hank was angry that he had put himself in danger again? What if-

“Connor’s awake,” Richard said, laughing wetly. Connor glanced briefly over at Richard’s face and found tears on his cheeks as well.

Hank moved forward, frantically checking over Connor for injuries. “Did he fall? Is he hurt? Kamski ordered him to stay in bed, Richard, _you know better-_ ”

“He remembers," Richard interrupted. “He remembers everything.”

Hank froze again. Connor couldn’t bring himself to look at Hank’s face. He curled in on himself, trying to make himself smaller. “I’m sorry,” Connor whispered.

Once he started, he couldn’t stop himself. “I'm sorry I snuck out. I'm sorry I got hurt again. I’m sorry I couldn't handle it on my own. I’m sorry I couldn't remember until now-”

He was cut off by sudden arms around him, one hand in his hair to cradle his head and the other arm around his shoulders. Connor had thought he had finished crying upstairs, but he proved himself wrong as he dissolved into sobs, melting into the embrace and clutching Hank’s faded Knights of the Black Death shirt.

Hank shushed him quietly. “It’s gonna be alright,” Hank promised, his voice choked and unsteady. “You're okay. You're alright.”

At some point, Richard was pulled into the hug as well. Connor relaxed into the family group hug. Between the three of them, there wasn’t a single dry eye.

Everyone was here. His memory came back. Things could become normal again - maybe not the same normal they had before, but it would be something stable. They could build their lives back

“Okay, we’re moving,” Hank announced, pulling out of the hug.

Connor blinked in surprise, just barely managing to keep himself from reaching out to keep a hold on Hank. Nevertheless, Hank noticed his fingers twitch and he took one of Connor’s hands. He dragged Connor into the living room, Richard following close behind, and he sat down in the middle of their old couch, pulling Connor down with him and tucking him against his side protectively, an arm slung over his shoulders.

Connor wasn’t small anymore. He might have been a little shorter than Hank, but he was still a young adult. He wasn’t the child model that had been able to fit just so beside Hank.

However, as Richard draped a blanket over the two of them, then moved to Hank’s unoccupied side and laid down with his head using Hank’s lap as a pillow, Connor sank into the couch and burrowed into Hank’s side, slotting into place like a missing puzzle piece.

Hank pressed a kiss to Connor’s hair. “Get some sleep, got it? Doctor’s orders.”

Connor nodded, wiping the tears from his face with the corner of the blanket and pulling it close.

Hank had been watching some classic crime drama, but Connor tuned it out, letting the feeling of safety seep into his artificial bones. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of Hank’s breathing lead him into sleep.

* * *

Connor blinked awake, registering the golden light in the room streaming from a window somewhere. The television was still on, playing reruns of _The Andy Griffith Show_ \- his favorite sitcom - but no one was in the living room.

He sat up. Sometime during the night, Richard and Hank must have gotten up and helped him lay down. The blanket that he and Hank had shared was tucked around him, and one of the pillows from his room had been brought down and placed behind his head at one end of the couch.

There were voices talking in low tones in the other room. If he wanted to eavesdrop, he knew that he could, but the desire to _see_ people won out. He swung his legs off the couch, but instead of the carpet, his feet landed on a mass of fur.

Connor quickly pulled back his feet. Sumo lifted his massive head and grunted at him, disgruntled with being woken so abruptly, but the misstep was quickly forgotten when the dog saw Connor was awake. He pushed himself into a sitting position with his front paws, tail wagging as he panted happily.

Connor slid onto the floor and wrapped his arms around Sumo’s neck, pressing his face into the dog’s thick fur and ignoring the slobbery jowls that rested on Connor’s shoulder. Sumo’s breaths were heavy in Connor’s ear.

"I wasn’t sure who would be more excited when you woke up, you or Sumo,” Richard said.

Connor peeked out of Sumo’s fur and saw Richard standing in front of him, a soft look on his face.

Richard offered a hand. “Come on. You need to eat.”

Reluctantly, Connor let go of Sumo and accepted Richard’s help in standing up. Sumo trotted ahead of them, disappearing around the corner in the direction of the voices Connor had heard earlier.

“Who’s here?” Connor asked, holding onto Richard’s sleeve.

“It’s just Dad and Kamski,” Richard answered. “Markus and Carl are planning on coming by later, though. If you feel up to seeing them.”

Connor nodded. They passed through the dining room and rounded the corner into the kitchen, where, just as Richard had said, Hank and Kamski were in the middle of a whisper-shouting match, with Hank standing near the stove and Kamski near the kitchen table.

“He's still _sleeping_ , asshole,” Hank hissed, threatening Kamski with a spatula. “Didn’t you say to keep him in bed and resting two seconds ago?”

“I’m not going to be back in town for three months!” Kamski hissed back. “He has a right to know-”

“He was already awake,” Richard said, speaking over them.

Hank and Kamski stopped their argument, both of them catching sight of Connor at the same time. Connor took a half-step back behind Richard.

“Come on,” Richard coaxed, leading Connor over to the kitchen table. Hank returned to whatever he was doing by the stove, but Kamski simply stood in place and watched, studying Connor’s movements. Though it made him somewhat uncomfortable, he was used to Kamski’s odd way of...existing.

Connor sat at the table, and Sumo instantly plopped down at his feet under the table.

Richard took a seat next to him, ostensibly between him and Kamski. The thought was appreciated, but it didn’t seem to phase Kamski in the slightest.

Hank put a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of Richard and Connor, ruffling their hair. “There ya go. Eat all of it, alright? I don’t want to see anything left over.”

“Thank you,” Richard said, digging in. Connor followed suit, trying to ignore both Kamski and Hank’s watchful gazes.

After a moment, Kamski spoke up. “How did you sleep, Connor?”

Connor took a bite of eggs and nodded wordlessly.

“Get it over with, Kamski,” Hank bit out. “I know you’ve got places to be.”

“I think it’s up to _Connor_ ,” Kamski returned with matching spite. He focused back on Connor again. “I wanted to give you a run-down of what happened to you, let you ask any questions before I go. Do you mind if I tell you as you eat your breakfast?”

Connor shook his head.

Kamski clapped his hands together. “Good. I’ll keep this brief and simple. Some of this is just a guess, but I believe Andronikov implanted a device within your cranial plate that would act as a sort-of ‘kill switch’, should he ever need to use it. It was designed to attack your cerebellum, among other areas. I’m not sure all of its capabilities, but for all his faults, Andronikov was a brilliant neurosurgeon. He was able to isolate precise areas of the brain that, when attacked, would cause whatever state he wanted. From Richard, I gather that he mainly used two modes - a paralysis state, and some sort of seizure-like state, personally designed to induce the most painful reaction possible.”

Connor suddenly didn’t feel like eating anymore.

Hank gripped his shoulder in support. “Your point, Kamski.”

“No point; I just wanted to lay out everything,” Kamski said. “And no need to lose any sleep over it - I removed it when Hank and Richard brought you home however many days ago. I’m told you’ve since regained your memories as well, so I’m wondering if it somehow… Not important. You focus on getting better. I just told Hank that I’ve prescribed anti-seizure drugs as a precaution. You’ll be feeling tired and easily exhausted, so get plenty of rest and make sure you eat well. No drugs or alcohol until I give the ‘okay’, and you must stay hydrated. Any questions?”

Connor stared at his plate, his mind whirling.

Richard reached across the table and took Connor’s hand in his. “I’ve already done research on brain trauma rehabilitation. You won’t be alone in this. Hank and I will take care of making sure you get everything you need. You just focus on getting better, okay?”

A wave of emotion swept through Connor, causing him to tear up again. Tired of crying, he forced back the tears, squeezing Richard’s hand in gratitude. Richard squeezed back.

“I’ll be back in a few months,” Kamski said. He allowed his aloof facade to drop for a moment, giving Connor a rare, honest smile. “It’s good to see you, Connor. Rest well, eat healthy, stay hydrated. I’ll come by as soon as I return.”

With a nod, Kamski dismissed himself, walking out of the kitchen and out of sight. Connor heard the front door open and close.

Hank ruffled Connor’s hair again, then tapped the table in front of Connor. “Eat. I’ve got movies for us to watch and TV to binge, but only _after_ you’ve finished everything on your plate. Got it?”

"Can we have a living room sleepover?” Connor asked in a quiet voice.

Hank grinned. “Living room sleepover, huh? Haven’t had one of those since the power went out when you two were kids.”

“I’ll go get pillows and blankets,” Richard volunteered, standing up from the table and taking his empty plate into the kitchen.

Connor watched him, but his attention was broken when Hank snapped in front of his face.

Hank pointed at his own plate. “Food. Eat all of it.”

Connor dutifully shoveled a bite of eggs into his mouth, receiving another hair ruffle for his efforts.

* * *

Later, when they had finally set up the living room for a proper sleepover, Connor fell into an easy peace, protected on either side by his family. The risk of another seizure was high, and he knew the road back to “normal” would be long, but he didn’t think about that.

For now, it was enough to let Richard and Sumo lay on his legs as Connor leaned against Hank’s side, drifting off to sleep every so often and waking to find that nothing had changed. Hank and Richard were still with him, and he had a feeling that's how it would be for a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> you guys should know me well enough by now - I cannot physically make myself write a sad ending. I can't do it. I need cUDDLES DAMNIT.
> 
> (Though, I may be planning a tragedy or two this Promptober, and a couple with mixed endings. You'll see...)
> 
> Again, love to the Discord <3 <3 <3 Thank you guys for all your encouragement. It really means a lot, and it has kept me going, so thank you <3


End file.
